


What's past is prologue, Miss Fisher

by Clara_Midwinter



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: AU, F/M, In which Jack Robinson is a Case of his own, Somewhere between seasons 2 and 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clara_Midwinter/pseuds/Clara_Midwinter
Summary: Miss Fisher and Detective Inspector Jack Robinson have solved a number of cases together but very soon she realizes that Jack is a case of his own. Phrack. Slightly AU. A collection of fluffy one-shots that won't always be strictly fluffy.This is my first venture into the Miss Fisher fandom, be kind!
Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	1. On a warm Monday morning

It amazed Phryne how Detective Inspector Jack Robinson at home was completely different. She’d witnessed many gentlemen of her class and otherwise lead double lives, but this was remarkably different. Jack wasn’t a cheater or a hypocrite, on the contrary, he simply had the habit of disposing of the grave and serious policeman every day before he crossed the threshold of his home. Said place was a Georgian row house like many others on the street, a magnolia tree in full bloom in front with its fragrant white flowers, sweetening the warm Melbourne air around them. The façade was of grayish bricks and the front door that boasted stained glass windows on each side was a deep shade of green. Gold numbers identified the house as being number 45.

But of course, Phryne Fisher was above waiting for an invitation to ever enter, and the Inspector having never shown interest in a nightcap in his own dwellings forced her to take the more  _ investigative _ approach. She discreetly waited for the clock to strike half-past six and for him to make his way out for work, leaving the way clear for her to enter while most nosy neighbors were at breakfast and his house was silent and empty. The hour too was so ungodly that she was sure he’d never dream of her being awake at this time, much less invading his private property. She was certain he knew of her predilection for the nightlife and also the need for her beauty sleep…

Phryne easily picked the lock to the wooden gate at the side of the house, which led to Jack’s famous garden. She knew he dedicated a good amount of time and care to his hobby, but it astonished her once passing through just how lovely and elaborate it was. Jack’s garden wasn’t by any means large, but it contained a lovely fish pond adorned by lilac water lilies, as well as a charming bench beneath the shade of a pergola, covered by curtains of the brightest and most impeccable fuchsias. The lady detective could perfectly imagine him sitting there for hours engrossed in a book or taking a well-deserved rest after harvesting and weeding, his work clothes clinging to his body from the heat with stains of dirt. She could almost feel the scent of him, all tea, sunshine, wet earth and hints of his pomade too, thought of which was sufficient to drive her mad with desire. How she’d ever be able to resist a Jack looking like  _ that _ was beyond her most colorful imagination.

Phryne’s eyes then caught sight of the back door, but her attempts at picking at it as well were met with failure. The door was chained closed from the inside and she’d failed to carry a magnet with her. She rolled her eyes and huffed with annoyance, coming to terms with the fact that she’d have to try the windows, even if it meant dirtying and wrinkling her impeccable Irish linen pantalons.

As she discreetly climbed through the window into Detective Inspector Jack Robinson’s house on a warm Monday morning, Phryne Fisher didn’t expect to come face to face with the curious and wide-eyed reflection of a little girl seated on the dining table, her breakfast of warm oatmeal interrupted, legs dangling from the chair not yet reaching the hardwood floor. Her hair was a lovely shade of brown, a few sun-kissed golden streaks here and there, a sign that she spent a good deal of time outdoors. She had slightly overgrown bangs and was still dressed in her floral blue cotton sleeping gown.

Despite the strangeness of an exquisitely dressed lady invading the privacy of her home, she didn’t seem frightened or weary. Instead, she finished chewing and swallowed, without a hurry in the world, the corners of her eyes full of humor.

“He told me you’d come one day…” She finally said, with a knowing smile. “What took you so long?”

Phryne furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head taken aback. Her hands smoothed over her pantalons and then fixed the silk red scarf around her neck, not a hair out of place. She’d be lying if she didn’t say she was entirely shocked and curious at the sight of this little creature. Her understanding of Jack Robinson had been of a solitary man, practical above all things, fiercely loving of the Bard, but first and foremost someone who lived alone after his separation from Rosie Sanderson, a marriage that to all intents and purposes had been  _ fruitless _ .

“And you are?” Phryne asked, taking a look around. The round wooden table was lovely, recently polished, the legs intricately carved, with a blue porcelain and copper Sevres chandelier hanging proudly above it and a china cabinet that held not actual china, but a small collection of favorite books as well as a few little picture frames and memorabilia here and there. A vase was neatly placed on the center of the table, on top of a white crocheted cloth. Phryne figured that the door right behind the girl, painted a glossy shade of red led to the kitchen, while double-French doors led to the parlour.

“Considering you’ve just invaded my home, I think  _ I _ should be the one asking, Miss.” Phryne’s lips turned upwards in a smile, quite taken with the little one’s sass. She couldn’t be older than ten.

“I’m the Honourable Phryne Fisher,” she said with a flourish, her voice an octave higher than her normal, to give off a feel of friendliness as she carefully removed her glove and politely stuck out her perfectly manicured hand. The girl smiled and forgot all about her oatmeal, hopping off her chair and rounding the table faster than Phryne could blink. Instead of shaking the extended hand, she grabbed it and all but dragged the woman into the parlour.

“I heard about you,” she explained happily, coming to a sudden halt. “I’m Beatrice Robinson, but they call me Phoebe instead. May I watch as you  _ detect _ ?” She asked with a hopeful glimmer in her uncannily familiar blue eyes.

Miss Fisher, as so rarely happened to her, was at a loss for words.


	2. The second door to the left

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks for the warm welcome and comments, you all are amazing!

When Phryne Fisher waltzed into the station later that morning her feelings were a mix of curiosity and outrage.

  
  


“G-good day, Miss Fish--” Hugh started, but Phryne simply walked right past him, invading Detective Inspector Jack Robinson’s office. Jack raised his eyes from reports he’d been analyzing as the wooden door slammed against the wall.

  
  


Miss Fisher clearly wasn’t in the best of spirits today.

  
  


“I paid a visit to your home, Inspector…”

  
  


“You mean you broke in.” Phryne ignored his smugness, carefully removing her gloves as she sat on the chair across from.

  
  


“I was surprised to find another member of the Robinson family there, one I never knew existed.” Jack hoped to the heavens that he was successfully keeping the laughter in his eyes at bay.

  
  


“Took you long enough, Miss Fisher. One would expect absolute speed and diligence from you.”

  
  


“I was otherwise preoccupied, and this week has been slow for business…” She trailed off with a faux air of nonchalance, only to turn those sharp eagle eyes toward him and go straight to the point: “Why didn’t you tell me of your niece, Jack?”

  
  


Jack’s response was simply the most infuriating of shrugs, a stupid barely-there grin etched to his face.

  
  


“I trust Phoebe was the picture of hospitality…”

  
  


“Ah, yes indeed, Inspector, even going so far as helping me to find the key to the second door to the left.” It was Phryne’s turn to provoke him and succeed she did.

  
  


When Inspector Robinson’s visage paled considerably she knew she’d won this round.

  
  


…

  
  


That evening as he walked through the door the housekeeper, Mrs. MacGregor was setting a dinner table for one and the house was uncharacteristically tidy and quiet.

  
  


“How was your day, inspector?” The older woman politely asked.

  
  


“Quite _interesting_ actually.” He remarked, looking around the place for any sign of his favorite little pest. Mrs. MacGregor nodded with a polite smile. “May I ask where my niece is, Mrs. MacGregor?”

  
  


“Oh, I’m afraid she’s been abducted, sir…” She responded with a sigh, although her mirthful eyes betrayed her, “by a ravishing lady detective, I might add.”

  
  


“ _Ravishing?_ ”

  
  


“Hmm. Quite dangerous too, golden pistol and all…” Jack shook his head and sighed.

  
  
“I wouldn’t worry, Mrs. MacGregor, our _ravishing_ abductor won’t be able to last that long with her.” The housekeeper laughed heartily as she made her way back into the kitchen.


End file.
